


all the lonely lights in your life

by Anonymous



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Crack Treated Seriously, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Unrequited Love, sad boys are sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Maybe it's fate that John Laurens sits next to that stranger at the bar right after Alexander not exactly blows him off, but rather decides he's better of mingling and dancing with the crowd.Or maybe it's just something about lonely souls, finding comfort among other lonely souls.Or, alternatively: two lovesick boys walk into a bar and pine over their philandering best friends.





	all the lonely lights in your life

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea why i wrote this. all i know is that i needed to.

Maybe it’s a thing about lonely souls, John thinks; maybe they’re just programmed to find company with other lonely souls.

Perhaps that’s why the person across the room— the one sitting down with his back hunched and idly stirring whatever concoction he’d ordered—catches his attention and makes him want to draw closer. “I’ll be right back,” is what he tells Alex, having to shout over the loudness of the music, and Alex looks up momentarily from the girl he’s trying to charm (John’s stomach churns at the sight of her, of Alex, of both of them playing the game of flirt-and-play-coy) and smiles at him; smiles the smile that always leaves John kind of dizzy and warm.

“Catch you later,” Alex says loudly. John nods and makes his way past the dance floor, and when he’s halfway through, he looks back, sees that Alexander’s already got his lips on her cheek and his hands on her waist. John swallows and shakes his head. He marches on.

The stools by the bar are mostly unoccupied, and John sighs in relief. He sits next to the lonely stranger and asks the for a drink— nothing fancy, just a mug of beer, no ice, thank you very much— and shifts a little bit, casually saying, “You look lonely,”

The stranger blinks and sits up straight. He looks at John, gestures to himself, and when John gives him a slow nod, he smiles a smile that looks far too big on his face, “I— guess,” he mumbles, running the pad of his thumb across the condensation outside of his mug. He’s got a slight accent that John can’t quite place. John hums. There’s a small click when his drink is placed before him. John glances up at the bartender, lips quirking up into a small smile for a fraction of a second, before he takes a sip and returns his attention to the man sitting next to him.

“Why?”

The stranger turns and raises one eyebrow inquisitively at John. “Why’s it any of your business?” he snaps, and John cringes a little bit because, wow, harsh— but he guesses it’s also a bit warranted for. People aren’t always friendly when you casually sit next to them at a bar and start asking questions about why they’re alone.

So he shrugs. “I could use some company.”

“Find it somewhere else,” the stranger grouches. John makes a face and moves to stand up. Fine, he thinks. Sit there all alone and wallow in your loneliness, he thinks. I was just trying to help.

But then he follows the stranger’s gaze, all the way into the crowd of people dancing and grinding and leading each other into the bathrooms, their faces close, their alcohol-stained breaths shared in between the small spaces between their mouths, their eyes half-lidded and their hips moving sensually to the thrum of the music John can distantly hear— and he sees him.

Alexander.

John wants to laugh. Of course this person is pining over Alexander. Of course this person is being all mopey over Alexander fucking Hamilton.

Alexander’s dancing with someone else now— a man. Short hair, almost a military cut. He’s very casually dressed, in a way that’s attractive— a tight-fitting black tee shirt with an insignia of a band logo John doesn’t recognize. He’s built. He’s tall. He’s got this charming smirk on his face, one that could probably even rival Alexander’s own. John can’t really see his face that clearly, but he’s a hundred percent sure the man is attractive.

He can’t help the small stab of jealousy that sparks in his gut.

“His name’s Gregorio,” the stranger suddenly speaks up. “Goyo. Goyong, if you’re close.” He pauses, and John turns to him, confused. The stranger laughs to himself. It’s more bitter than mirthful. “Why am I telling you this?”

John shrugs, “Finally given in to my charm?”

The stranger hadn’t been looking at Alexander, and for some reason that fills John with some strange sense of relief. He steadies himself back on the stool, and the stranger orders another drink.

The stranger snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

John shrugs again. Fine with him. He holds out his hand, “I’m John.”

The stranger looks at it cautiously for a moment, before he takes it. His hands are cold. “Vicente,” he says, and John nods and shakes his hand. He tugs it away; promptly goes back to watching the crowd.

“You from around here?”

“Er, no. Exchange program.”

“Ah.”

There is silence, for a few moments. Alexander looks like he’s really enjoying himself. John tries to swallow down the bitterness bubbling in his chest cavity.

“Alexander,” John blurts. Vicente looks at him quizzically, and John clears his throat. “That guy he’s dancing with, he’s Alexander.”

“Ah,” he hears Vicente say. It sounds like feigned disinterest. It sounds like his voice box is strung tight and his chest has a lead weight upon it. More silence hangs over them, wrapping around John’s throat like a chokehold as he reels for something to say.

“I love him,” John finds himself saying. His mouth immediately clamps shut, and he mentally hits himself in the head for letting that slip— to a total stranger, no less. He doesn’t understand. He’s not an open person. There’s no reason for him to have said that.

Maybe it’s just the feelings, building up and pouring in gradually that over the years his heart and lungs have been filled up and everything’s just spilling out of his mouth. Maybe it’s because he has this foolish inkling that this person is like him, this person would get it, this person _understands_.

Or maybe he’s just reading too much into this and projecting onto Vicente and he’s just misconstrued the whole thing.

“Ah,” Vicente repeats, voice sounding a lot softer now. John’s face twists at the tone of his voice. He can hear it, clear as day, the blatant pity in the undercurrents of Vicente’s words. He scowls.

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“Who’s to say I was giving you any,” Vicente mutters. He says something under his breath, in a language John doesn’t understand, and John doesn’t quite catch it but it doesn’t sound very nice. He rolls his eyes and sits back against the bar. Vicente’s finished drinking, he sees. He’s downing the last of his whiskey and setting the glass on the bar. John breathes. Vicente breathes.

“I’ve known him all my life.”

“Liked him just as long?”

“Nah,” Vicente says. “Loved. _Love._ ”

“Enteng!” shouts the handsome man— Gregorio— dancing with Alexander. John sees Vicente’s face twist, and he looks at John with what seems to be a resigned smile, but it just looks bitter. He yells something like, “Punta ka nga dito!”

Vicente calls back, “Ikaw adjust, gago!”

The man named Gregorio runs his hand over his hair and turns to say something to Alexander— and John can see his charm now, can see what it is about him that can captivate Alexander, captivate the fellow sitting next to John and drinking his sorrows away. Gregorio’s tugging at Alexander and pulling him towards them. He’s a lot taller than Alex— stands a whole head above him. John tears his eyes away from them.

“John!” Alexander cries when they’ve reached stopped, and John smiles tightly. They just stand there, for a few tense seconds, staring at each other and shifting awkwardly in their places. Alexander continues, “This is…”

“Vicente,” Gregorio smoothly cuts in, “My best friend.”

John hears Vicente laugh. It sounds strained to his ears, but maybe he only knows that because he’s laughed the same laugh so many times before.

“Nice to meet you,” Alexander says. He’s saying something, introducing John to Gregorio he’s sure, but all the words sound so muted, and all their voices sound far away. Still, John moves on autopilot, smiling politely at Gregorio and shaking his hand. Alexander’s put his hand on John’s shoulder, and it’s warm and heavy and John wishes it never had to leave. And John won’t let himself look up, because he’s kind of tipsy, and maybe Alexander glowing underneath the stain of multi-colored neon lights would be too much for him to resist.

“This is a funny coincidence,” John says, finding his voice underneath an unfamiliar clog in his throat.

“Yeah,” Vicente says, and he stands up, smiles at them all. He tugs at Gregorio’s sleeve, and when Gregorio’s attention turns towards him says, “Nagtext si Joven, so.” He makes vague motions with his hand, and the way his smile’s wavering and his hands are trembling are all too obvious to John’s eyes. Gregorio must have noticed too— his (admittedly charming) smile’s turned into a frown, and his mouth opens as if to say something, and John meets Alexander’s confused stare with a shrug. Vicente coughs, continues, “Mauuna na ako.”

(John barely catches it; he can’t understand either way.)

Gregorio frowns.

John can’t help but feel like he’s intruding.

“Sure ka?”

“Yeah,” Vicente says, “Have fun.”

He throws in a wink for good measure, and John winces. Gregorio elbows Vicente, _“Tarantado!”_ and Vicente laughs and they banter some more in indiscernible words. He eventually pushes Gregorio away and turns around and looks at John and Alexander. “I’m gonna go ahead. See you around?”

John shrugs. Alexander says something he doesn’t hear. Alexander’s hand is still on his shoulder.

“It was… nice meeting you, John,” Vicente says tentatively.

“Yeah. I felt like we really got to connect,” John says, deadpan.

Vicente smiles. John smiles back. It’s bitter, it’s resigned, but it’s genuine. John tries to say that he understands. Tries to relay how grateful he is to have found someone who understands, as well. He bites his lower lip, ignoring how his heart’s thumping slowly— almost dully— at the throbbing in his chest.

_My heart hurts_ , Vicente’s smile tells him.

_Mine too,_ John’s says right back. _Maybe we need a doctor._

Vicente shakes his head and turns away. John watches him go.

**Author's Note:**

> my brain at 3 am: ok, grecente.  
> also my brain: ok but lams  
> ALSO my brain: ok, but grecente AND lams  
> and thus this was born, completely out of self-indulgence.
> 
> translations:  
> "punta ka nga dito!" - "come over here!"  
> "ikaw adjust, gago!" - "you adjust, asshole!" (tho "gago" is p flexible, like all swears)  
> "nagtext si joven" - "joven texted"  
> "mauuna na ako" - "i'll go ahead"  
> "sure ka?" - "are you sure?"  
> "tarantado!" - similar to "gago".
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!!! and i hope this wasnt a complete waste of time!!! feel free to leave kudos or comments or  
>  ~~watch goyo: ang batang heneral on netflix!!~~


End file.
